


May 2020 Prompts

by Shortculler (Starculler)



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Batman - All Media Types, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Prompt Fic, each chapter is a different fandom, please check the tags listed under each prompt for specfics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25731295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starculler/pseuds/Shortculler
Summary: Prompt Collection done in May.First chapter contains descriptions of each prompt and links to each chapter.





	1. Prompt List

**Author's Note:**

> These are originally from my [Tumblr](https://starculler.tumblr.com/)

##  [Quit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25731295/chapters/62481961#workskin)

**Fandom:** Boku no Hero Academia // My Hero Academia | [Werewolf AU](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570603)  
**Characters:** Midoriya Inko  
**Relationships:** Midoriya Inko/Midoriya Hisashi  
**Tags:** Divorce, Implied/Referenced Stalking  
**Excerpt:**

> Inko paced the small length of her kitchen, chewing anxiously on her thumbnail as she dialed a once-familiar number in her cellphone. She pressed the device to her ear and waited as it rang, hardly breathing. After the seventh ring there was a pause, and her heart skipped a hopeful beat until it pulled through to the automated voicemail. She sagged back against the counter as if she were a puppet whose strings had been suddenly cut, hip pressed painfully into one sharp corner.

##  [Regret](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25731295/chapters/62482144#workskin)

**Fandom:** Young Justice | Avengers | [(Dis)placed AU](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1106442)  
**Characters:** Dick Grayson, Clint Barton  
**Tags:** Crossover, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Comfort  
**Excerpt:**

> Dick had taken to reading anything and everything he could get his hands on in the Avengers’ Tower. It was dizzying, the sheer amount of information he’d sifted through in the months since… Since he’d found out there was no Justice League on this Earth. Anything from world history to physics, even law and government. If the information was there, then he had his nose in it. All of it was so staggeringly different from what he knew, overwhelmingly so. But he couldn’t stop.

##  [Future](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25731295/chapters/62482285#workskin)

**Fandom:** Boku No Hero Academia // My Hero Academia | [Werewolf AU](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570603)  
**Characters:** Hizashi Yamada, Aizawa Shouta, Midoriya Izuku  
**Relationships:** Aizawa Shouta/Yamada Hizashi  
**Tags:** Family, Werewolf AU, Fluff  
**Excerpt:**

> Hizashi stood up from his spot on the couch, languidly stretching his arms up before letting them settle back at his sides with a little groan. A quick glance at the clock showed the late hour, five minutes until midnight. He winced, not having meant to nod off for so long but had to admit that the two-hour nap had done him wonders. It did mean, however, that he wouldn’t be able to bid Izuku goodnight before he left for the radio station. With another quick stretch, hands on his lower back as he tipped backward with a satisfying pop, he headed toward the bedroom he shared with Shouta, around the corner and back to the last room in the little hallway.

##  [Dry](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25731295/chapters/62482381#workskin)

**Fandom:** Avatar: The Last Airbender | Herbalist!Zuko AU by [Muffinlance](https://muffinlance.tumblr.com/)  
**Characters:** Zuko, Momo, Miyuki (cat)  
**Tags:** AU, Nonbinary Zuko, Fluff, Zuko goes by Spirit  
**Excerpt:**

> Spirit often found themself missing Miyuki when sorting and drying the herbs they or others in the group had picked to help replenish Spirit’s stores. It wasn’t a sharp or particularly mournful feeling, like they’d lost something, but it also wasn’t quite the same as when they found themself missing the breathtaking view they’d seen every day while living with the herbalist and Miyuki.

##  [Artificial](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25731295/chapters/62482513#workskin)

**Fandom:** Batman | [Stary!Dick AU](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1780132)  
**Characters:** Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne  
**Tags:** Bruises, Canon Typical Violence, First Meeting  
**Excerpt:**

> The first time Dick meets Jason Todd, the kid is ten, rail-thin and bruised, but there’s a fire in his eyes and a swagger to his step that makes Dick grin. He prowls Crime Alley like a pro, cocky enough that he doesn’t get shit, but not so much that he’s actually begging for trouble. A perfect, if precarious balance, but not foolproof. That much is evident as Dick swoops down from his rooftop perch, using ladders and pipes and bricks to carefully control his fall until he’s just close enough that he can confidently land boot-to-face on the nearest goon.

##  [Overflow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25731295/chapters/62482678#workskin)

**Fandom:** Boku no Hero Academia // My Hero Academia | [Werewolf AU](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570603)  
**Characters:** Aizawa Shouta, Midoriya Izuku  
**Tags:** Grief, Implied Death, Guilt, Mild Comfort  
**Excerpt:**

> Shouta’s fingers twitch, eager to reach out to his friend and comfort him. Eager to sink into the tangled mass of ungelled, blond hair fallen down about Yamada’s shoulders. To hold his tear-stained face between his palms and smooth out those hauntingly familiar lines of grief on his face. Lines that look so out of place on such a frustratingly sunny person. Lines that he put there. 


	2. Quit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters:** Midoriya Inko  
>  **Relationships:** Midoriya Inko/Midoriya Hisashi  
>  **Tags:** Divorce, Implied/Referenced Stalking  
> [Tumblr Version](https://starculler.tumblr.com/post/616961450785832960/day-1-of-my-may-prompt-list-quit-set-in-my)

Inko paced the small length of her kitchen, chewing anxiously on her thumbnail as she dialed a once-familiar number in her cellphone. She pressed the device to her ear and waited as it rang, hardly breathing. After the seventh ring there was a pause, and her heart skipped a hopeful beat until it pulled through to the automated voicemail. She sagged back against the counter as if she were a puppet whose strings had been suddenly cut, hip pressed painfully into one sharp corner.

She gripped her phone harder and used the other to brace herself against the countertop. She sucked in one shuddering breath as the line beeped and went silent, waiting for her to leave her message. Again.

“Hisashi,” she said, more of a squeak than a word. She paused, swallowing against the sudden dryness in her throat, and tried again. “Hisashi, please. Please call me back. It’s－ I－ We－” She sniffled and blinked against the sudden onset of tears. “I know it’s been mo-months since we－ since you’ve called, and you’re probably busy, and. And－

“I do-don’t care if it’s another woman,” she lied, the words laying bitter on her tongue. “But please, I need you. Izuku, _your son,_ needs you.” Her voice cracked, and she bit the inside of her cheek hard to help stifle the sob threatening to claw its way up her throat. “I’m so scared, and I don’t know what to do or even what I _can_ do. I just…”

She sighed and pushed herself away from the counter to slide down to the floor. She knocked her head back against a cabinet, wincing when it hit harder than she’d meant, and let a low whine slip past her lips. Exhaustion dragged at her from her head to her toes, constant and heavy in a way that left her almost lightheaded. That made her yearn for the simpler thoughts of her other form. A wolf couldn’t worry herself sick over every question or possible outcome. To a wolf, the solution was simple: flee or fight.

But Inko wasn’t _just_ a wolf, no more than she was _just_ a human. What she was, however, was alone. Alone with a six, nearly seven, year old son who’d come home last week with the same scent lingering on his clothes as the one she’d found on her doorstep this morning. The thought of someone coming near her baby had left her nearly rabid with rage at first. Now, though, there was only a cold lump of terror in the pit of her stomach, so strong it made her nauseous.

“I’m calling my parents tomorrow,” she said, ignoring the shiver that crawled up her spine in response. “They－” She grit her teeth, and pulled her hand roughly through her hair. “You know I don’t … agree with them, but I could use their help. I, no, we. We could use your help, too. Izuku is－ Someone’s trying－ Ugh,” she huffed, frustrated at her inability to explain. “Just, I’m scared and my parents, well, you remember how they are, and… And.”

She laughed softly and hated how hollow it sounded, even to herself.

“I know you love our son, Hisashi. I know you’d do anything to keep him safe, so, please. Call me back as soon as you” _get this,_ she didn’t get to say as the message cut off.

With a groan, she pulled her phone from her ear and ended the call feeling a lot like she’d been run over by a car. She pulled her knees up to her chest then, slowly, and wrapped her arms around them before letting her head fall forward. Hopefully he’d quit ignoring her, call, and then… And then they’d figure out what to do. Together.


	3. Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Fandom:** Young Justice | Avengers | [(Dis)placed AU](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1106442)  
>  **Characters:** Dick Grayson, Clint Barton  
>  **Tags:** Crossover, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Comfort  
> 
> 
> [Tumblr Version](https://starculler.tumblr.com/post/617022942245683200/day-2-regret-takes-place-in-my-displaced)

Dick had taken to reading anything and everything he could get his hands on in the Avengers’ Tower. It was dizzying, the sheer amount of information he’d sifted through in the months since… Since he’d found out there was no Justice League on this Earth. Anything from world history to physics, even law and government. If the information was there, then he had his nose in it. All of it was so staggeringly different from what he knew, overwhelmingly so. But he couldn’t stop.

He knew, objectively, that his interest bordered on obsession but it was better － anything was better － than the hollow, churning pit of grief that had carved itself a space inside his chest these past few months. If he could just find all the differences between his world and this one, then maybe things would start making sense again. If he just. Kept. On. Going. Past the headaches and nausea and waking up day after day after day on a bed in a room that resolutely refused to make itself familiar to him.

“You okay?”

He startled when a hand － Clint, that was Clint’s voice and his steps and when had he gotten so close when he’d been loosing arrows across the room and － settled on his shoulder, firm but gentle. Grounding. Dick bit his lip, wanting more than anything to just hide behind the book sitting heavily in his hands.

“I’m fine,” he said instead, and winced at how his voice had wavered. He forced a smile when Clint frowned, opened his mouth and talked because it was better than being worried over. “It’s nothing. Just a headache from all the reading. I’m almost done with this one.” He tapped at the page he’d stopped on. “It’s…interesting. Very, uh, sciency. Some of Dr. Banner’s research is in it, so at least if I get stuck on something there’s someone to go ask about it, y’know, and, uh, well.”

“Alright, alright,” Clint interrupted, hands up in a pacifying gesture as his mouth twisted up into a wry grin. “I get it, you’re fine. No need to make a book report out of it.” Dick’s smile turned more genuine at that, and Clint didn’t miss out on a chance to rope him into something that wasn’t just obsessively reading. “Just came over to ask if you wanted to spar?”

Dick hesitated, but did set the book he’d been reading down on the bench he was sitting on. He wanted to. He really did but. He reached up idly to touch his throat, fingers tracing the near invisible line slit across it. Before he could get caught up in his memories － the cloying scent of blood, the chill under his skin, his fingers so numb he could barely feel them and the knife slick after scraping across his－ he set his hand back on the book next to him and turned his face just enough that his hair made a neat curtain to hide behind.

“M-maybe another time. This book’s just getting good, and I’ll probably get lost if I stop now and－”

Clint sighed and Dick winced in response, cutting his babbling off before it could even really start.

“Is this about Nat? That’s water under the bridge, kid. Everyone knows you didn’t mean to－”

“I broke her leg,” Dick blurted out before he could stop himself. “I just. I can’t. I don’t know how to.” He groaned, curling forward on his lap as he hooked his fingers through his hair and pulled. It was still long, down to his waist, and he refused to cut it because what if it didn’t grow back anymore and he couldn’t hide what he was anymore than he could the _obviously_ wrong parts of himself. “I can’t control it,” he whispered miserably, fists tight in his hair. “It’s like blacking out again except, except instead of not knowing _what_ I’m doing I just－” He sucked in a useless breath and held it.

“It’s okay,” Clint said and Dick could hear him shift, crouching down so they were more level even as Dick ducked his head down further so he didn’t have to meet Clint’s sympathetic gaze.

“It’s not. It’s really not,” he replied, and tried to stifle the whine that slipped out with the words.

“Even if it’s not,” Clint acquiesced, “you regret hurting her. She and I know it, and no one else blames you for the slip. Do you know,” he added after a pause, “how many times Steve’s accidentally put one of us through a wall during a spar? Or Tony’s hit a little too hard with his suit? Thor with his hammer? And I’m not even going to mention when Bruce’s hold on the Hulk wasn’t great, and I’m sure you could imagine how _that_ went.

“Trust me when I tell you that all of us have had plenty of accidents.” Dick opened his mouth to argue, but Clint bulldozed right through. “Nope. Hush. I’m not done imparting wisdom, so wait your turn.” Dick huffed, but it sounded suspiciously like laughter. “Now, where was I? Oh, yeah, accidents” Clint cleared his throat, and Dick couldn’t help the reluctant smile that fought its way onto his face. It was hard to worry and sulk when Clint was trying so hard. Still,

“You’re going to say ‘but you can’t let accidents stop you from trying to improve yourself,’ aren’t you?” Dick asked and was surprised when it came out less flat than he’d expected.

Clint nodded and threw him a thumbs up as he said, “Yup. Maybe with a bit more rambling and some more jokes thrown in, but that’s basically it. Just, I get that you’re torn up about everything that’s happened to you,” and Clint made it a point to tip Dick’s chin up so Clint’s blue eyes, serious and intent, met Dick’s pale gold ones. “But what’s done is done. You’re you and there’s no real point in wishing the changes weren’t there. Embrace ‘em and make use of them instead. Learn to work with the hand you’ve been dealt.”

Dick’s eyes strayed to the side of Clint’s head where the archer tapped twice on his ear, and Dick could just barely make out the modified hearing aid he wore. Clint flashed him a grin, both hands on his knees now as he balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to spring up at a moment’s notice.

“So, what do you say, kid? Want to give it another try?”

“Sure,” he said as he straightened slowly back up before following Clint out onto the mats.


	4. Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Fandom:** Boku No Hero Academia // My Hero Academia | [Werewolf AU](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570603)  
>  **Characters:** Hizashi Yamada, Aizawa Shouta, Midoriya Izuku  
>  **Relationships:** Aizawa Shouta/Yamada Hizashi  
>  **Tags:** Family, Werewolf AU, Fluff  
> [Tumblr Version](https://starculler.tumblr.com/post/617237724668231680/day-3-future-im-a-little-behind-but-heres)

Hizashi stood up from his spot on the couch, languidly stretching his arms up before letting them settle back at his sides with a little groan. A quick glance at the clock showed the late hour, five minutes until midnight. He winced, not having meant to nod off for so long but had to admit that the two-hour nap had done him wonders. It did mean, however, that he wouldn’t be able to bid Izuku goodnight before he left for the radio station. With another quick stretch, hands on his lower back as he tipped backward with a satisfying _pop,_ he headed toward the bedroom he shared with Shouta, around the corner and back to the last room in the little hallway.

The room was dark and empty, and he had to wonder if Shouta had already left for his shift. The thought pulled a pout from him, annoyed at the possibility that he hadn’t been woken for so much as a sleepy “be safe.” He huffed, but padded dutifully over to the closet he kept his Present Mic outfit in. Getting it off and his hair un-gelled with a quick shower was honestly more effort than he wanted to put in, but was better in the long run. He’d never hear the end of it from Shouta otherwise. It was closer to one by the time he was done, towel slung around his shoulders to keep his damp hair off his t-shirt.

He padded back out of the room, shivering a bit at how much cooler it was outside the bath, to re-check the locks on the door and windows, unsure if he’d done it before all but collapsing on the couch. And maybe, on the way back to his bedroom, he could just oh so casually peek in on Izuku. Just to make sure his son was actually asleep like he was supposed to be instead of scribbling in one of his journals.

Not that the journals were a bad thing, he mused as he checked the triple-locked door and windows, peeking outside as he passed each just in case. Really, anything that made Izuku happy, and actually willing to step outside of his own volition, was a good thing in Hizashi’s book. The hero fanaticism, while funny in how overly-enthusiastic Izuku got, had really pulled the kid out of his shell. Hell, it had been part of what had allowed both Shouta and him to earn the kid’s trust early on.

Plus, it was kind of adorable. Hizashi had seen his own page in the first journal, the second page where Shouta’s had been the first, with a crude and messy drawing of himself as Present Mic followed by big, blocky children’s handwriting with basic information: his quirk, favorite food, his high school, and other little tidbits he’d offered up as an act of goodwill. Now, of course, the pages were much more developed and the drawings a little more accurate. The kid would honestly be a pretty formidable analyst in the future if he kept up with the hobby, especially with Shouta not-so-subtly coaching him.

That did draw a hushed laugh from him as he made his way back through the apartment, satisfied that everything was locked and safe. He paused just outside of Izuku’s door, the paw-print stickers and hanging nameplate, now with much neater lettering, still there nearly two years after they’d first taken him in.

He opened the door slowly, the knob a little _too_ cold in his hand, and poked his head through the crack. His gaze flicked through the dark, quick to adjust to the change in light, to find Izuku huddled under his blankets like a snugly wrapped dumpling. He grinned at the sight, sorely wishing he could snap a picture, only to glance sharply down at a moving mass of shadows next to the bed where Izuku’s fuzzy carpet should be. A pair of eerie scarlet eyes blinked slowly at him from a giant wolf’s face, ears twitching forward with interest.

Shouta yawned, head tilted back lazily and showing off rows of glinting fangs, before stretching out on the carpet until his hind paws brushed the dresser behind him. He thumped his tail once on the ground and Hizashi had to wave him off to keep him from rising and following him out. Better for Izuku to keep Shouta with him like this than have to deal with his husband in full shift trying to steal the space on their bed. He shut the door behind him, wondering which nightmare had prompted Shouta’s stay in Izuku’s room. Hizashi yawned as the door clicked softly shut and, finally, shuffled off to his bedroom, determined not to wake up until at least midday.

Too bad he had an early shift at the station tomorrow. Or, he supposed, today.


	5. Dry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Fandom:** Avatar: The Last Airbender | Herbalist!Zuko AU by [Muffinlance](https://muffinlance.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Characters:** Zuko, Momo, Miyuki (cat)  
>  **Tags:** AU, Nonbinary Zuko, Fluff, Zuko goes by Spirit  
> [Tumblr Version](https://starculler.tumblr.com/post/617241535674761216/day-4-dry-inspired-by-the-herbalistzuko-au-by#notes)

Spirit often found themself missing Miyuki when sorting and drying the herbs they or others in the group had picked to help replenish Spirit’s stores. It wasn’t a sharp or particularly mournful feeling, like they’d lost something, but it also wasn’t quite the same as when they found themself missing the breathtaking view they’d seen every day while living with the herbalist and Miyuki. It was … fond. Soft. A little restless. And exactly what they were feeling now as they sat quietly sorting through some recent acquisitions.

Already they’d lost track of their task four times as their thoughts wandered, sometimes so far that Spirit swore they could feel the phantom brush of the cat’s body under the palm of their hand. They pressed their lips into a thin line, suppressing a sigh as their focus drifted yet again. It wasn’t as though Spirit would ask the Avatar to take them back － although sometimes they wondered if the others would even if they _did_ ask since they seemed content to keep Spirit with them (and Spirit was just as content to stay).

But.

But sometimes. Some nights. When the moon was high and the air’s chill nipped a little too harshly at the scarred portion of their face－ Spirit blinked, hauling their thoughts back to the present once more when Momo’s chittering caught their attention. The little flying lemur pounced on their shoulder, tail curling around their throat as it pushed its paws through their hair, further undoing the loose bun Spirit had tied their long hair into. They smiled, indulging the lemur as it pawed at the unscarred half of their face by offering it a sweet berry from the bowl beside them.

Spirit often missed Miyuki. That was and always would be true, but Momo, they mused, was good company to have on nights like these too.


	6. Artificial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Fandom:** Batman | [Stary!Dick AU](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1780132)  
>  **Characters:** Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne  
>  **Tags:** Bruises, Canon Typical Violence, First Meeting  
> [Tumblr Version](https://starculler.tumblr.com/post/617321201065508864/day-5-artificial-its-straydick-au-time-the)

The first time Dick meets Jason Todd, the kid is ten, rail-thin and bruised, but there’s a fire in his eyes and a swagger to his step that makes Dick grin. He prowls Crime Alley like a pro, cocky enough that he doesn’t get shit, but not so much that he’s actually begging for trouble. A perfect, if precarious balance, but not foolproof. That much is evident as Dick swoops down from his rooftop perch, using ladders and pipes and bricks to carefully control his fall until he’s just close enough that he can confidently land boot-to-face on the nearest goon. The man crumples and Dick executes a neat leap off the body before it hits the ground, flipping with as much flair as required of a showman.

He lands not three feet from the group, two more men and the kid sprawled on the ground with a nasty shiner spreading across one half of his face. Dick grins behind the mask covering the lower half of his face, head tipped ever so slightly to one side, and stares just a little too wide-eyed at the men the same way Harley does when she’s eager to pummel someone. The kid, he notes, just sits there, gawking at him like Dick hasn’t just given him the perfect escape.

No matter.

“You lot weren’t picking on this kid here, were you?” He asks, voice dripping saccharine-sweet in that child-like way he can still sort of get away with at 14-nearly-15. It helps, too, that he hasn’t hit any major growth spurts. His audience, unfortunately, does not seem especially charmed as they get over their shock.

One of them brandishes his poorly cared for pair of brass knuckles and grumbles out a gruff, “This ain’t none of your business, Stray. So stay out.” Dick glares as the man, clearly lacking sense, turns his back to Dick to focus back on the kid. His partner, the one not out cold on the ground, stays put, snarling but silent. Well, at least one of them has a brain.

“Maybe there’s been a misunderstanding here,” Dick says, an edge to his voice now as he slides into a wider stance. “What I meant to say was leave the kid alone and _maybe_ I don’t knock your faces into the ground like I did your buddy.” The goon still facing Dick twitches.

“Fuck off,” spits the one wearing brass knuckles from over his shoulder.

Dick scowls, jaw clenched, and curls his gloved hands into loose fists, careful of the artificial claws on the tips of each finger. “Fine.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal and slides one foot back. “S’not my fault if you wanna get beat up by a kid.”

The idiot closest to him yells something before charging at him full tilt, and Dick spares a moment to feel a little disappointed by that. He jumps, uses the guy’s shoulders as a point of contact, and clears it with a neat forward flip. He falls into a low bow before bringing his arms back up like he’s a showman in the circus’ center ring, and takes a second to wink at the kid who, by now, has at least remembered to scramble to his feet while his would-be attackers are distracted. He hears the kid shout something that sounds a lot like “watch out” as Dick spins on his heel and ducks under a fist that clips his hood, knocking it back though not enough that it falls.

He crouches, cat-like, for all of two seconds before darting forward through the guy’s too-wide stance. It’s too easy from there to sweep a leg out and catch the goon in the backs of his knees to send him hurtling toward the asphalt. There’s a satisfying crunch and the resulting wail, and Dick’s there soon enough with a boot to the guy’s face that knocks him out cold. He turns then, loose and ready, to face the last man standing, and feels a little like a cat playing with its food.

“Well?” He prompts but never gets a reply. The guy blanches, every ounce of blood draining from his face before he turns tail and runs. Dick has all of two seconds to feel proud of himself when he hears the kid behind him yelp.

Before Dick can so much as turn a foot, a hand clamps down on his shoulder. A familiar, heavy, black-clad hand that immediately sends shivers crawling down his spine. He can already hear the lecture he’s going to get the minute Selina gets her hands on him. His breath stutters in his chest and he has to lick his lips to get even a semblance of moisture back in his mouth before he ducks neatly out of the purposefully loose grip on his shoulder and spins around.

With a casual grin plastered on his face and his hands stretched up and behind his head in the most innocent posture he can think to adopt, he says, “Bats! Mr. Man. The Batman himself.” The Batman, scourge of Gotham and one of the many on a long list of people that Selina’s very specifically ordered him not to go near, watches him in silence, mouth set in a thin, grim line. “What’cha doing here? Crime Alley’s not exactly your typical playground nowadays,” he adds when Batman very pointedly does not speak.

Dick gets a grunt for his trouble, the cowl’s lenses narrowing ever so slightly. And Dick, if he were anyone else, would probably be cowed by now. Terrified into silence by so much as a look. But he’s not anyone. He’s him. So, of course, he does what he always done when fear grips him by the throat and threatens to squeeze: he talks. Babbles, actually. Most of it the kind of nonsense chatter that he keeps up during a fight in an effort to lower his opponent’s guard, all the while smiling that same, artificial smile that makes his cheeks ache.

“Well,” he says once he’s blown through every topic he can think of and Batman _still hasn’t spoken,_ “This has been fun and all, but I should _really_ get going.” He waves and the Bat’s mouth tightens like he disapproves of every single one of Dick’s life choices. “You,” he adds, leaning around the vigilante’s bulk to peek at the kid he’d saved _still just standing there,_ “have the Bat here take you home, and stay safe. And stay out of trouble!”

He says the last bit as he springs up onto the rusty fire escape a few paces down the alley and shoots the pair a two-fingered salute before climbing up the rest of the way. As soon as the soles of his boots touch the roof, he books it. It isn’t exactly a dignified escape, and he would have preferred to stay behind and make sure the kid was okay first, but better the kid stay back with the Bat than him. He wonders if it’d be too much trouble to see if Selina would be willing to help him keep an eye out for the kid just in case.

While Crime Alley is usually one of Stray’s primary haunts, he can’t be too careful if Batman’s making a reappearance in the area. Plus, two eyes are better than one. And maybe, he thinks as he jumps from one rooftop to the next, this was just a one time thing. Dick’s gut says otherwise, but he can always hope that the kid’s life takes a brighter turn. And if it doesn’t, well, he might not be able to help every kid in need but Stray can certainly offer some support to a single kid when he needs it.


	7. Overflow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Fandom:** Boku no Hero Academia // My Hero Academia | [Werewolf AU](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570603)  
>  **Characters:** Aizawa Shouta, Midoriya Izuku  
>  **Tags:** Grief, Implied Death, Guilt, Mild Comfort  
> [Tumblr Version](https://starculler.tumblr.com/post/618954200820449280/overflow)

Shouta’s fingers twitch, eager to reach out to his friend and comfort him. Eager to sink into the tangled mass of ungelled, blond hair fallen down about Yamada’s shoulders. To hold his tear-stained face between his palms and smooth out those hauntingly familiar lines of grief on his face. Lines that look so out of place on such a frustratingly sunny person. Lines that he put there.

This is his fault. He did this to his friend. To the Yamada family. His error. His ineptitude. Their grief lies at his feet, one more drop in an ocean of regrets, thick and clinging mud that drags him further down into its depths with every added mistake. If he’d only been better. Stronger. Faster. _Smarter._ But he wasn’t, and once again it’s someone else forced to pay the price.

He forces his fingers to curl into tight, barely shaking fists and swallows down the burning, acrid taste of bile in his mouth. His mouth won’t open, consolations stuck tight to his throat while his eyes burn with unshed tears. Angry tears. He doesn’t know when he moves or what he says before he does. His mind is blank as he walks robotically away, chest tight with guilt and the raw edges of old wounds that never quite closed. One moment he’s by his friend and the next he’s a block away. On the train. The sun is setting, but when he blinks it’s night. The world rushes by, a blinding mass of subdued color moving on around him as he allows what tore open inside of him to fester.

A hand, warm and small, touches his cheek. The contact drags him out of his head. Out of the painful twist in his chest and the numbing haze of blankness draped over his mind. He blinks and this time his apartment comes into focus around him. It’s loud and bright and painful in ways he doesn’t want to deal with so he turns his eyes - red, aching, and blazing red as he activates his quirk because how _dare_ this person touch him - on the intruder, only to feel the tension in his body ratchet up another torturous notch.

Izuku is standing there, red-rimmed eyes puffy and brimming with tears as his whole, tiny body trembles. The kid’s lower lip wobbles as wet and messy as the rest of the mess on his face as he butchers whatever words his blubbering is supposed to be. Shouta manages to make out what sounds like _please_ and _die_ and _sorry_ as the kid strokes his pudgy hand over Shouta’s stubble, fingers curving like he really wants to pull at the skin or short hairs.

Guilt stabs at him more fiercely than before. This is another thing he’s done. One more sin to add to the pile. Shouta sucks in a tight, painful breath through his teeth as the feeling threatens to overwhelm him again. For a moment, he curses the kid. Hates that he’s here to distract Shouta. To make him feel all the worse and yet keep him from the numbness he yearns for in the face of the overwhelming crash of emotions.

Shouta hasn’t been good for this kid. He doesn’t dislike children, but he doesn’t think he’s good around them no matter what he’s been told before. He’s cold and standoffish and doesn’t know how to act around as tactile a person as Izuku seems to be growing into even with a friend like Yamada around to anchor him. So he doesn’t expect it when his body moves almost without his permission. His hands wrap loosely around Izuku’s arms and tug lightly, timidly, and is surprised at how eager the kid’s answer to the gesture is.

Izuku barrels into him, earnestly sobbing now instead of babbling as he clutches fistfuls of Shouta’s shirt. He presses into Shouta like he’s trying to bury himself in the tangle of fabric he wears on him, and Shouta. Shouta responds like he never has before. He clutches at the kid, this tinier-than-he-should-be child he’s been taking care of for almost half a year now, and wraps around him with all the care he can manage.

His eyes burn and his sight blurs, but it doesn’t matter much when he buries his face into Izuku’s box-dye-black curls. Izuku hides his own face in Shouta’s neck, pressing as close as he physically can when Shouta’s arms loop around him and his chest vibrates with a noise not unlike a soft growl. He doesn’t notice the subtle shift - sharper canines and longer nails, a strain in his neck and a brief twinge in his ribs, and the sudden sensitivity in his other senses - because all that matters is the almost-smells-like-him kid whose somehow managed to pull himself into Shouta’s lap, and the wave of exhaustion that’s crept up on him. On them, he realizes, as Izuku slowly sags into the hold as much as Shouta’s tight curl around the kid turns into a lean.

The guilt and pain, old and new, lingers, but it’s softer now than it had been in a way he’s nearly unfamiliar with. He wonders, for a moment, when it and the tension in his body had bled off before the thought trails away. Lost in the same muddy haze of sudden, relieved exhaustion he hasn’t felt in years that has him leaning back into the couch he hadn’t really felt under him until then. Izuku follows easily, breaths deep and hitching only a little, and lays against him almost like a rag doll.

He ends up rubbing small circles into Izuku’s back, nose still buried in the kid’s hair, as his eyes droop. Izuku snuffles, hugging closer as the rumbling in Shouta’s chest bleeds into a soft, comforting croon. It’s meaningless noise, but it works to lull the both of them into sleep. Maybe not restful or comfortable, but sleep nonetheless.


End file.
